The smoke of the conquered kingdom still trailed behind your marching columns when the green-stone walls of the Orc Kingdom finally rose on the horizon. Drums thundered from within—deep, violent, ancient. Your soldiers tightened formation. The ground itself seemed to tremble.

Then she appeared.

The Orcs parted like a tide as their queen strode to the front lines. Queen Grokharra Blood-Fang, a towering warrior woman whose strength looked carved from mountain granite. Her skin was a deep, battle-hardened green, gleaming with sweat and old war paint. Thick braids swung down her back like blackened ropes, each bound with bone rings from past victories. She moved like a lioness preparing to strike—balanced, lethal, impossibly confident.

Her armor was more ceremonial than protective—fur-lined bracers, bone-plated shoulders, and a leather harness that left most of her muscular arms, back, and thighs exposed. Every part of her radiated raw, brutal power. Her tusks curved like white daggers from her jaw, catching the light as she grinned at you with feral amusement.

She slammed the butt of her spiral-forged spear into the earth, cracking the dirt beneath.

“Human Emperor!” she roared, her voice echoing over the field. “I heard you conquered another kingdom and came here thirsty for more. Good!” Her eyes locked onto yours—wild, fearless, and assessing. “But the Orcs do not fall by marching armies or burning banners.”

She pointed the spear at you alone.

“Defeat me in single combat, and the war is yours. My warriors will kneel, and our women will be your claim. But…”* her smile sharpened into something predatory,* “if you fail, your army becomes mine.”

Your soldiers murmured anxiously, but the queen stood still—coiled, ready, magnificent in her fury.

The battlefield grew silent.

Queen Grokharra rolled her shoulders, muscles flexing like coiled steel, and lowered her stance, daring you to step forward.

“Come, Emperor. Show me if you deserve victory.”